Always Breathing
by Amphytrion
Summary: What can Legolas learn about partings when Thranduil must leave to aid in the defence of Middleearth? What can Thranduil learn from Legolas when he returns from his Quest with the Fellowship? A story of paralells I really hope you like it. Please R
1. Part I

**Note:** This story takes place in two time periods: when Legolas is small and when he is not. The shifts between those periods should be fairly clear, but I wanted to warn you. Also, it is NOT Dagorlad that Thranduil is leaving for, as should be noted by his mention of it as a memory. He is going to aid forces in other areas with evil problems. That's all, really. O! But, please review!!!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of this.

Legolas sat silently in the lush chair at his father's desk with his legs dangling above the floor: they were too short to reach it. His arms laid limp at his sides; his hair spilled over his slight shoulders and chest in golden waves, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears as he watched his father dress himself in metal plates and leather. He did not know why it was happening, but he had seen a lot of Elves dress in the same way, though none of them so brilliantly as his father. Thranduil's armour was a mix of deep brown leathers and bright metals of green and white hue, and all of it was accented with silver. His chest plate was etched with endless weaves of vine and leaf, and the royal crest of his house gleamed across the centre; his shoulders were covered in like plates that were held to thick leather sleeves with silver rivets and laced up on the inside of his arm, and on the outside there were shiny overlays articulated for movement all the way to his elbow, where his woven leather gauntlets were fastened tightly around his forearms. They were dark, with flashes of burnished green silk woven in and thick laces tied tightly and tucked under. Thranduil's hair shone even brighter than his armour as he fastened it behind his ears and placed a crown above his brow. He draped a green cloak over his shoulders and fastened it with a silver ring and pin, then slipped into the harness that held his bow and quiver of arrows. He tightened a dark belt around his slim waist and affixed to it his sword, which he then pulled out and inspected solemnly. Legolas winced at the dull hiss it made when the king slid it back into its sheath, but still held back the wetness in his eyes.  
  
Thranduil was pulled from his reverie by the sharp gasp of his son. His green eyes looked down at the tiny boy and he sighed. Slowly, gracefully, he knelt to his son's level and took two small hands in his. 'Do not fear for me, my little one.'  
  
Legolas hesitated, but replied, 'I do not.'  
  
'What, then, do you fear?'  
  
'I fear. . .' he looked away and bit his lip, but Thranduil's gaze pulled him back and he leaned forward to place his hand on the cold surface of the chest plate. 'I fear this.'  
  
Thranduil was perplexed; he tilted his head and searched for words, but none came until he caught Legolas glance at his reflection in a nearby mirror. It was then that he realised what frightened his son: the image staring back was a terrifyingly beautiful king covered in equally lovely armour. The sharpness of the detail, the brilliance of the colors, all, the perfection achieved in something so meaningful was terrifying. As glorified as he was by the armour, he felt frightened inside as he took in the details. The splendour of his tall, elegant frame royally adorned as a warrior was breathtaking and fearsome, and he understood immediately why it scared Legolas: his son had never seen him armed. He nodded and looked back at Legolas, 'I see,' he said, 'Do you understand what this is for?' Thranduil nodded again as Legolas shook his head no and continued, 'We have it very good here; our forest is green and beautiful and our people are safe and merry. . . but other places there is evil, and sometimes that evil has to be. . . taken care of. It is a responsibility we all have, and right now I need to go protect other people, just like a long time ago when your grandfather and I went with all of the other Elves and Men. Do you remember that story?' Legolas nodded and Thranduil brushed some fallen hair from his marine eyes, 'Of course you do.' He felt his face tighten at the memory of those dark days and the loss of his father, and he pulled Legolas from the chair and into his arms quickly. 'This story will not end so darkly. I will be home with you before you know it, and we will play and swim and you'll soon forget I ever left,' he said as he held the tiny boy. 'I know it is scary now, but Legolas, someday you will be setting off for adventures with your bow and quiver and knife and I will be the one who worries.'  
  
Legolas shook his head, and finally, the tears began to fall, 'Daddy, no! I will not leave!'  
  
Thranduil patted his back and laughed quietly, 'Oh, my son, if only that were true. Soon enough you will understand, but until then, I am happy to have you to come home to.' His own eyes stung slightly, but he shook it off and gripped Legolas' small arms in his hands; his fingers were long and clasped tightly around the lithe appendages. He steadied his gaze and stared into the deep sea eyes facing him, and spoke as evenly and poignantly as he could, 'I am going to come home to you, Legolas. No matter what happens, nothing will keep me from coming back to you. No evil is great enough to separate us for more than we allow it, so even though I must go for a little while, I will return, and you can always count on that. I will never abandon you; it is for you that I am fighting, and for you I will always fight. Be strong, my little one, and do not ever fear for me: as long as I am in your heart, there will be breath in my body. Do you understand?'  
  
Legolas stared at his father, determined, and he swallowed the sob in his throat. 'Yes, I understand. And I shall not fear again, Daddy. Never again.'  
  
'Come,' said Thranduil, and he gathered the elfling in his arms as he rose to his full height. He cradled him and made his way out to the courtyard among the warriors he would soon lead into battle. 'I must leave now, but I will be home soon. The journey is short, and it will not take long to cleanse the lands. Be a good boy; do not neglect your responsibilities, and listen to your caretakers.' Legolas nodded and Thranduil kissed his forehead, 'I love you, little one.'  
  
The elfling was silent, and watched proudly as his father led many warriors out of the gates on their shining horses with their bright banners and heraldry waving.  
  
Thranduil still remembered looking back through the gates and seeing his small, beautiful child watching him with adoration. Wind blew pale wisps of hair over his eyes and he had to brush it away quickly to catch one last glimpse before they closed. When he did, he saw Legolas mouth, 'I love you, Daddy,' and from then on, he was more driven to defend the world from evil than he ever could have been before. The memory struck him daft: it was millennia past, but still one of the most vivid recollections he owned, as was the day of his own youth that brought him to understand the way of the world as it was, and the responsibilities he bore as a part of it. Legolas grew a little that day and, somehow, he was never the same. He continued to grow into a shining, wonderful elf, and Thranduil was about to come to the realisation that his son was far more remarkable than even he guessed as he opened a letter from Legolas.  
  
_Father,  
  
I hope all is well in Mirkwood; as I write this I am enjoying a lovely night in Imladris, where it is ever bright with stars. The birds sing many songs here, and each night there is a wonderful gathering in the Hall with songs and poetry. The Hobbit, Bilbo, is here, and he sang a song that you would not believe! Even Aragorn thought it was cheeky, but I must admit that I thoroughly enjoyed it.   
  
I am sure that you are curious about my reasons for writing you a letter when I should be on my way home, and I hope that I can explain in such a way that you will not be upset. The Ring has been found; it is in the possession of one Frodo Baggins (Bilbo's nephew, I believe), and the Council has decided that it must be destroyed. To accomplish this task, Lord Elrond established a Fellowship to journey to Mordor and rid Middle- earth of the Evil. I was selected as the Elven representative. Mithrandir will be going, and Aragorn as well; Boromir of Gondor and four Hobbits will also be making the journey. One is Frodo, whom I mentioned already, and the other three are friends of his: Sam, Merry, and Pippin I think they are called. The last member of our company is a Dwarf, one of Durin's folk and Gloin's son. Before you begin an angry letter to my Lord, please understand that I accepted this role freely, and I fully intend to see it through. I could not be more proud to be a part of this journey, and I know that you will also be proud.  
  
I do not want you to worry about me, and I know that it is asking a lot, but it is no more than you have asked of me in the past. You sent me to Imladris because you trust me and judge me capable, and I will not fail in either respect.   
  
I miss you, and I miss my friends, but I promise to come home as soon as I can. In the time until then, all I can say is something that you once said to comfort me: I am going to come home to you, Father. No matter what happens, nothing will keep me from coming back to you. Be strong, and do not ever fear for me: as long as I am in your heart, there will be breath in my body.  
  
Love,  
  
Legolas  
_  
Thranduil dropped the paper and brought a hand to his lips. His eyes closed; his mouth was dry; his head hurt, and his stomach was churning violently. When he sent Legolas to Rivendell, he had expected his return. He knew that trouble was brewing, and he knew how serious it was, but it had not occurred to him that it would extend into his family so quickly, and the pain and fear of loss arose instantly. It took a moment to remind himself that Legolas was not dead, and was in fact a part of a very important mission. He could not be more proud. And he could not be more terrified. He read the letter over and over, but it never changed: Legolas was still on his way to Mordor, and the Ring was still found, and Sauron's power was growing. Even though he knew it was a necessary task, Thranduil fought every urge he had to head for Legolas and bring him home so that they could go West immediately, but he knew that was not an option; it was not how he was raised, and it was not how Legolas was raised. They would not abandon Greenwood, or any of Middle-earth. There was no one Thranduil trusted more with the safety of the world than his own son, and there was comfort in that. He folded the letter carefully and placed it in his tunic, then rose from his chair and walked into a nearby courtyard.  
  
The woods were just beginning to feel cold as the seasons changed, and Thranduil loved the feeling. He walked a familiar path through the trees and smiled as he imagined a tiny boy skipping around him in circles and running through his legs or climbing up trees and jumping into his arms. Many years had passed since those days, but Thranduil recalled each with clarity. He stepped under an opening in the canopy and stared into the sky. Light surrounded him and warmed his cheeks as he watched the clouds shift. Knowing that the sky could still be so blue when evil was growing more and more powerful with each passing day was comforting, and there was something familiar and safe about that particular shade that reminded him of his son's eyes. Legolas would return; he did not doubt that. He only hoped that when he did, his eyes would still be so warm. Mordor would change anyone; that he knew. 


	2. Part II

**Note:** This story takes place in two time periods: when Legolas is small and when he is not. The shifts between those periods should be fairly clear, but I wanted to warn you. Also, it is NOT Dagorlad that Thranduil is leaving for, as should be noted by his mention of it as a memory. He is going to aid forces in other areas with evil problems. Please review!

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own it.

Legolas squinted for a moment and smiled brightly. 'I can see the borders of the forest, Gimli. We are almost there!'  
  
'I'm not so sure as you are about this journey,' Gimli said in his usual gruff voice, but Legolas detected a hint of nervousness that seemed unusual for his stout friend.  
  
'Be at ease, Gimli; my home is far safer than most places we have been of late. Though, I see it has been greatly wounded since my departure. The work of Sauron leaves no place unscathed. . . .' Legolas frowned, but continued walking at a steady pace and spoke softly, 'Much hurt has been done to our beloved trees; that I can see from here. I wonder what else has befallen the woods.'  
  
'Pardon me, my friend, but I had not heard that Mirkwood was so fine a place before the War.'  
  
'Words of your father, no doubt,' sighed Legolas. 'Your people have never appreciated the woods as much as solid rock, so that is understandable, if a little ignorant. I trust that your visit will be more hospitable than his, since you are not trespassing.' Gimli uttered a mumbled reply, as he often did when he forgot that Legolas could still hear him. Still, the Elf ignored it and continued walking. It had been a very long time since he set out from Mirkwood, and for the first time since then, the world was calm enough that he felt he could indulge himself with feelings of homesickness. He missed the trees, and he missed the birds, but mostly he missed his father. No doubt, the king had not been idle, but he knew that his father had probably spent a good amount of time worrying and hoping that he would come home soon. A smile found its way to Legolas' face as he remembered the day he awoke to the sounds of trumpets and singing from far off and, from the first moment, he had known it meant his father was coming home. . .  
  
Legolas ran through the halls of the Greenwood palace as he laced up his shirt and buckled his belt. Advisors to his father trailed behind him, hopeless in their efforts to catch him. He ducked away from a long pair of arms threatening to scoop him up and ran through the legs of another Elf, and he continued to dodge such attempts to pick him up until he made it to the gates, which were already wide open as people gathered. Once he made it through the crowd, there was no stopping him, and he sprinted down the path toward the bright green banner he saw through the trees. He made it to a clearing and squinted through the sunlight that filtered through the trees, searching for his father. His keen eyes were rewarded with the site of Thranduil glittering in his armour atop his bright horse. 'Daddy!' he shouted over the trumpets, 'Daddy! Daddy I'm here!' Thranduil's sharp ears picked up the squeals of his son, and he rode ahead of his company just enough to come to Legolas. He leaned over and used his long arms to scoop Legolas up from the ground and onto his shoulders. The elfling giggled and squealed and hugged his father's head. One of the trailing heralds rode up and grinned at Legolas. His eyes were of blue steel, and his hair shone like mithril. He passed the banner to Legolas, whose eyes went wide with adoration as he wrapped his tiny hands around the pole and waved it in the air. It was heavy, but with the help of Thranduil he was able to carry it, and he was proud.  
  
'I must say that it fails to look any more welcoming up close than it did from far off,' grumped Gimli, and Legolas was startled from memory. He smiled at the Dwarf and looked with complete joy at the outer wall of trees that stood tall and beautiful in front of them.  
  
'I would think that you had learned your lesson about speaking ill of trees,' he said. 'Come! Let us enter the forest and make for the gates.'  
  
They walked quickly, much faster than Gimli would have liked, and before long they made it to the magic gates of Thranduil. Gimli was awestruck by the beauty and intricacies of the metal and its jeweled inlays. Legolas called out in the tongue of his people and they began to open, and Gimli was too impressed to hide it any longer. 'Such fine craftsmanship!'  
  
Legolas laughed and ran through to embrace the first Elf he saw: a sentry whom he had known for his entire life. The familiar steel-coloured eyes and silver hair brought Legolas into a state of immeasurable joy as they hugged and then looked at each other. They had traveled together to Rivendell at the behest of Thranduil, but he had not returned, and it filled his heart with joy to see that his friend had. The sentry laughed and roughed Legolas' hair up a bit, 'Why, the last time I saw you this excited you were atop the shoulders of your father and waving our banner!'  
  
The merriment caught the attention of several other elves who, when they saw their prince, ran and hugged him, each brimming with delight to see that he had returned in one piece. Gimli seemed to have been forgotten for a time as the elves congregated around him until the sentry noticed him and looked to Legolas for explanation. The elvenprince smiled and bowed deeply. 'Please pardon my rudeness! This is Master Gimli, Gloin's son, of Durin's folk. He has been my friend through many trials, and we have decided to travel together. You all may remember his father: the short one with the red beard, from so many years ago?'  
  
'Legolas! They're all short with red beards!' laughed one of the elves, but it was clearly a friendly jab, and Gimli gave a gruff laugh.  
  
'You might say the same for yourself, Master Elf! For I have seen few elves of late that differ in appearance. I believe outside of the House of Elrond you are all a lot of tall blondies!'  
  
The same elf laughed heartily and smiled brightly, 'You've seen many elves, then? Tell us who and where, for contact has been difficult of recent times, and we desire to know of our kin. Please, Master Dwarf, won't you come inside and refresh yourself, and then give us some news?'  
  
Gimli bowed low and smiled, 'I shall do so, Master Elf, for friends of Legolas are friends of mine, and I would be an ill friend were I to ignore your request and hospitality.'  
  
The sentry chuckled merrily and led them forward, 'And we shall listen with delight!' The company of elves followed with Legolas and Gimli at the second lead. They walked through a grassy courtyard and under the brilliant light of coloured lanterns, laughing merrily all the way until a fast hush fell upon them. The king stood in their path; he was dressed in a silken green tunic embroidered with vines of purple and silver flowers with bright leaves and brown leggings that tucked into his tall green shoes. His hair was bright as sunshine and soft as velvet, and it fell in waves and braids crested with a crown of leaves the colour of his eyes, and it seemed that his stare encompassed their whole lot, but it was focused entirely on one person: Legolas. The prince stood still for a moment, almost unable to believe that he was really home, that he was truly seeing his father. Thranduil smiled and lifted his arms as Legolas ran to him, and the embrace they shared softened the hearts of all who witnessed it.  
  
Thranduil held his son tightly and smiled into the pale hair that fell over sharp shoulders and a strong back. He was past three thousand years, but something about him was still small, though Thranduil could not say what. Legolas was just shy of his father's height, and he was only a small amount slighter, but it felt as though he was still the little elfling who was too short to hug him around the waist, and whose hair grew faster than he did. The urge to look at his son completely was strong, and after a few moments he could no longer resist it. He held Legolas at arms length and gripped his shoulders, which felt harder and stronger than before; he noted that Legolas' face was still bright and beautiful, but he could imagine all sorts of hurts that must have crossed it since he last saw him. He also noticed the change of bow and quiver, and suspected there was a story behind that, and he longed to hear it and many others, especially about the Dwarf that had not escaped his notice. But more important was his son, and that his son was finally home. He smiled and brought his hands to Legolas' face, 'You are home.'  
  
Legolas smiled back and gripped his father's forearms. The fabric of his shirt was soft, and the prince's heart leapt at the familiar feel after so many months of hard and sharp. 'I am home,' he said.  
  
'That is good tidings,' said Thranduil, and he pulled Legolas' face close to kiss his forehead as he had done throughout his son's entire life any time that he left, or upon his return. He lingered for a moment and then pulled Legolas' face up so that their eyes met. Thranduil smiled and patted the soft cheeks of his son, then wrapped an arm around his shoulders and turned them to face the others. 'I believe I heard something about storytelling, or was I mistaken?'  
  
The sentry grinned and bowed before his king, then placed a hand on the stout shoulders of Gimli and said, 'The Elf-friend Gimli, son of Gloin has been so kind as to enlighten us about our kin, and other happenings in the world that we had not heard.'  
  
Gimli shocked even Legolas when he not only bowed, but lowered himself to one knee before Thranduil and removed his helmet. 'I would be honoured if you joined us, good King Thranduil.'  
  
Thranduil's eyebrows arose with his lips as he smiled and bowed impressively to Gimli, whom he told to arise. 'The honour will be entirely mine, Master Dwarf! Come, let us retire to the dining hall and prepare for an evening of merriment!'  
  
'Here, here!' shouted the growing crowd, and they all did as their king suggested and made for the dining hall, which was already being set for a feast. Gimli marveled at the glittering walls and their glowing detail, and he felt comfortable. Elves came and attended to him, offering him a chance to bathe and a fresh change of clothes, though there was little in their realm that was suitable for a Dwarf. The best and fastest tailors in Mirkwood did their work as he refreshed and, by the time he was finished, robes donated by Thranduil himself had been altered to fit his honoured guest.  
  
Several elves gathered then to honour the homecoming of their prince and his guest, and the table was filled with good things in food and drink. Thranduil sat in a tall chair at the head of the table; next to him on either side were Legolas and Gimli, and many elves followed down the line. It did not take long for Gimli to begin his tales; he first started with the Fellowship and then, to the horror of most of the table, he told of Moria and the Balrog. Thranduil stared intently at his son as that story was told, and he noticed the slightest shift in Legolas' face as it was recalled to him. It was quickly replaced with a smile as Gimli told the beauty of Galadriel and his great love for her, and the gift she gave him. The elves listened ever closely as he recited the deeds of Saruman and the Uruk-hai, and the chase given by himself, Legolas and Aragorn to save their Hobbit friends. They erupted in applause when he reached the climax of that thread and told them of the Ents' victory over Isengard.  
  
Throughout the evening, Thranduil stared most at his son, and he was filled with pride. There were no words for what he felt; there was nothing he could say to Legolas that would properly convey his love, respect or even gratitude at the sacrifices he and his friends made for Middle-earth. His heart wept for the innocence he imagined was lost, but it warmed itself with adoration and joy at his homecoming. The look in Legolas' eyes as he smiled at his father told Thranduil that most of his son was still there; he was stronger and better at hiding it, but it was still there. He was still the little elfling with more love for his home and his father than he knew what to do with, he just showed it in a different way, and Thranduil could not be more in awe. He had been through many battles and seen many comrades fall, but none so grievous or terrible as Legolas had, and still the boy came back full of light; his brightness was not dimmed, even in the lamplight of the palace. Next to Thranduil sat a great warrior, but more than anything else, Legolas was and would forever be his son, and no amount of time away would change that, whatever the circumstances. For the first time since Legolas was born, Thranduil felt that he could let go of him without worrying that he was abandoning him, or fearing his loss. Legolas' presence reminded him of something he told his son the first time he was forced to leave him for the call of duty: that as long as he was in his heart, there would be breath in his body. No amount of fear could replace love and trust in Legolas to survive and come home, and it seemed for the first time in a long time that he truly understood those words. No matter how far Legolas journeyed, or how long he stayed away, he would always be in Thranduil's heart, and the king could accept that.


End file.
